Loss
by berryandlisa
Summary: What if Dean was bitter and angry with Sam for leaving for Stanford? What if Dean never came back to find him? This is my take on what would have happened if Dean hated Sam. This is my first Supernatural fanfiction, so go easy on me! Thank you!
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural_

 _Warning: NOT A HAPPY STORY._

 _A/N: I thought about making this a very long one-shot, but I've been working on it for months and still haven't finished it nor decided on an ending. Therefore, I decided to make it into a chapter story. I'll post updates from what I've written every week for the next couple months. Once I get to where I left off, I'll need your (as a reader) help to finish it. Depending on the responses I get from this will determine how and when I finish it. I hope to be done with it by the end of the summer. I do NOT plan on giving this story a very happy ending, so YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. Anyway, I hope you enjoy my work and don't forget to review!_

 _The lines mean either time change or POV change._

* * *

"You walk out that door, don't you **ever** come back!" The door slammed shut with a loud bang and shook for a moment before stilling.

Fire raced through Sam's veins, boiling his blood and causing his entire body to quiver with indignation. The sting of his father's words left a bitter taste in his mouth. He never intended to leave this way - with hateful words he knew he would one day regret. He paused for a moment to stare at the door, wondering if he should just go back inside and apologize - staying with the hunting life.

 _And throw away a future, a scholarship just handed to him?_

The thought of never having another chance to leave caused Sam to shudder. His mind made up, Sam turned and walked away, unsuspecting of the importance of that decision.

On the other side of the door, the sound of Sam's retreating footsteps echoed through John's mind. All rational thought left him and he yelled, throwing the empty bottle of whiskey against the wall. He stared at the mess for a moment, not really comprehending the glistening glass shards now lying scattered on the floor. _Who did that boy think he was to just walk out on his family? Didn't I raise him better than that?_ He grabbed another bottle and started drinking again at the table. Rage and alcohol impaired his vision and motor skills as he struggled to open the drink. With a final curse, he wrenched the top off.

Dean heard everything. He heard Sam's confession about receiving a full ride to Stanford and his intention to use it to get a degree. To do something with his life. He heard the war going on through the paper thin motel walls. Though he stayed silent, tears made their way down his face as his only family tore themselves further and further apart. The words coming from his father and brother's lips cut him to the core. He knew he never could have said such terrible things to either of them. When he heard the door slam shut, something changed. The finality about it made Dean flinch. He waited all night for his brother to return. He waited in his bed lying stiff as board, almost forgetting to breathe, so as not to miss his Sammy's return. But he never came back.

The following morning, Sam sent a text telling them he arrived safe in California.

The tension in the air was palpable. Without a moment to delay, John told Dean to pack their bags for their next hunt. Dean, the obedient soldier, gathered his few belongings and placed them in the trunk of the Impala, going through the motions. He kept his face impassive, not wanting his father to catch on to his true emotions. Not that Dean could name them otherwise. The betrayal of what Sam did stung too much.

So, the remaining Winchesters continued on what they did best: they ignored their feelings by drinking and hunting. Though a wordless pact formed between them never to bring up Sam or the fight that occurred that night.

John seemed unaffected by Sam's absence. He acted like the younger Winchester had never existed. He continued on with his life by immersing himself into every hunt, not bothering with emotional trivialities. He ran on fumes, and when he spent himself completely, he drowned himself in the bottom of the bottle.

Dean couldn't do that. Everything reminded him of his brother. So, he called Sam. He rang week after week until the number no longer worked. After months of waiting with no word from his little brother, Dean came to the conclusion that Sam no longer needed him. Perhaps he never had. Maybe it was always Dean that needed Sam. Either way, Sam left him in the cold. Abandoned him to fight the endless war their father enlisted them in. Sam deserted his family to find the normality he always sought after. Even as a kid, Sam strove for ordinary even though he killed werewolves on the weekend. But as soon as the opportunity arose for him to escape, he took it like a homeless druggie takes the money given to him out of pity for his next high.

When Dean still couldn't move on, his father brought up the sensitive subject on one of the car rides to their next hunt.

Stars shimmered in the sky, twinkling down on them blissfully unaware of the fractured world they lit. Black velvet darkness concealed the speeding car, only broken by the headlights on the Impala lighting their way through the night.

John glanced at his son several times, noting the evident angst written all over Dean's face. He knew that the more he ignored the reason for Dean's depression the worse it would get. The father in John was starting to worry that much more of this relentless routine would push Dean off the deep end.

He cleared his throat, but Dean didn't notice. "Dean, it's not your fault," he said shaking his head a little.

Dean didn't bother turning his head. "What are you talking about?"

"Sam."

The name hung tense between them. Neither wanted to have this discussion. Neither dared to admit or administer blame. A jumble of emotions whirled through Dean with that one simple name. Resentment. Sadness. Regret. He ground his jaw, but didn't respond.

John ended up breaking the silence again. "You can't keep-"

He couldn't believe his father brought this up now. "Keep what, dad? Keep worrying? 'Cause in case you haven't noticed, Sam hasn't said one word since he said he got there. I don't know if he's dead or alive or safe or why he left in the first place." Dean had started yelling.

"That's not what I was going to say." John tried to keep his voice steady so as not to infuriate Dean any more. "I'm worried, too. I think about him every night and hope that he's at least happy. I was just gonna say you can't keep beating yourself up over it."

"I'm not beating myself up over anything," Dean answered, sending a harsh look towards his father. More silence.

"I mean-" John paused. "I can't stand seeing you so depressed all the time. I can tell you're- upset. I know because I'm your dad. Knock up job I've been doing of that recently though, eh?" John attempted a joke to lighten the mood. It didn't really work.

"Look. I'm fine, dad." Dean tried to reassure him but knew it wouldn't convince his father otherwise. He hoped his dad would just drop the subject and they could go back to avoiding it again.

John glanced over again. "Just-"

"Do you want me to be mad?" Dean interrupted again. "'Cause I'll get real angry if we don't drop this anytime soon."

"It'd be better than what you are now," John muttered, "Maybe then you'd be a better hunter."

Dean gave John a last look of fury before turning his head to look back out the window. They said nothing more for the rest of the drive, but Dean didn't miss his brother anymore after that. In the months and years that followed, Dean put all the rage he felt into every kill. The bitterness grew like a festering wound. A year after Sam left, Dean drank until he couldn't see straight. That night he made a very conscious promise to never forgive Sam for leaving him. Nothing could make him forget how lonely and abandoned he felt the night Sam left him.

* * *

 _ **10 Years Later...**_

Dean woke to the sound of the phone ringing. He grumbled about more time and let his phone go to voicemail.

It rang again. He still didn't answer.

The third time it went off he picked up his phone and hit the end call button. Hopefully, whoever was calling would get the message and leave him alone.

The person didn't attempt to call again and Dean fell back into a restless sleep.

Three hours later, Dean's raging headache wouldn't allow anymore rest, so he got up and took an Advil. He didn't drink too much most nights of the year - he wanted to stay sharp when hunting - but every year on the anniversary of Sam's abandonment he allowed himself to indulge as much as he wanted. When the pounding in his skull subsided enough for him form a single coherent thought he checked his phone.

One voicemail. _Probably John._

He and his father had started hunting on their own six years ago and often helped each other out with various cases. Around that time he stopped saying dad and started calling him John. He listened to the voicemail, assuming John was responding to his latest inquiry.

 _"Dean. It's Sam. I know it's been a long time, but I need you. Please call back and I'll tell you where to meet."_

Dean stood in stunned silence holding the phone to his ear for several minutes. His heart pumped double time and a jumble of thoughts crossed his mind. _Shapeshifter? Demon? Hallucination?_ He couldn't be sure. Dean prided himself on his alertness and ability to never get caught off guard. He never could have anticipated this turn of events. He tossed the phone on the bed, so he wouldn't chuck it across the room. He ran a trembling hand through his hair and took several deep breaths. _Why, after 11 years, was Sam calling now? Did he even want to know what the hell was going on? Was Sam safe? Was he in danger? Did Dean even care?_

After battling with himself for a while, Dean came to the conclusion he would never find out if he didn't take a chance. He dialed the number and called. He hoped it would go to voicemail so he could avoid a confrontation. Maybe it was some kid prank calling him, though he very much doubted that. No kids had his number. He was saved from his tumultuous thoughts when Sam picked up on the second ring.

"Hello?" The voice sounded haggard. Rough. Like he'd swallowed a bunch of sandpaper. Or screamed for twelve hours straight.

"Hello, Sam," Dean replied.

"Dean." The sound of moving and bed springs could be heard. "So good to hear your voice."

Dean closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. "Get to the point."

"I- uh, need some help."

What on earth could make Sam, who spent the past eleven years running away from his family and the hunting life, so desperate he now came running back? He could only think that either he became bored with the normal life or Sam suspected something supernatural going on and didn't want to - or couldn't - deal with it himself. "With what?" he snapped back.

"Can you meet me at 8243 Windsor Point Avenue in Martinsville, California in three days? I'm in apartment B." Sam asked. Sounded like he had the address memorized. Must be a home address.

Dean wrote down the address and said, "I'll be there in less than two days."

A sigh of relief. "Thanks, man. I really-"

"Yeah, just be ready." Dean hung up before Sam could say anything else.

He closed his eyes and took several more shaky breaths. Sam needed help. He wanted to meet. He sat down on the bed and put his head in his hands. A single tear fell and he brushed it off before it could get any farther. Who did Sam think he was to just call him up and demand to meet? He debated whether or not to even go. Going would mean confronting the feelings he had spent eleven years drinking away. Staying meant he would never find out why.

His mind made up Dean stuffed all his belongings into the trunk of the Impala and sped off to reunite with his brother.

* * *

 _A/N: I thought about adding more, but I think I'll leave the chapters a bit shorter just so I have enough time to edit and continue what I have left before I have to post it. What do you think? Do you like what you've seen this far? Are you confused with what's happening? Please leave a review. It doesn't have to be positive, all I ask is for some respect. I have put a lot of time and energy into writing and editing this so please don't just hate on it. I don't currently have a beta for this story, but if you're interested PM me and we can talk. Also, I think I've edited out all grammatical errors, but let me know if you catch something I didn't._

 _Thank you very much! I look forward to updating this soon!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural_

 _Warning: NOT A HAPPY STORY._

 _A/N: Yay! An update! Thank you to Jotade, foreverafangirl93, babyreaper, and for reviewing! I very much appreciate it. To answer babyreaper's question: It will be revealed in this chapter!_ _If I'm not clear enough, let me know so I can be sure to emphasize on it in the future. I was only going to post about one chapter per week, but your responses encouraged me to give you more. Please continue to give me feedback so I know what you guys do and don't like. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!_

 _The lines mean either time change or POV change._

* * *

 _ **Sam's POV**_

Two and a half days later, Sam paced back in forth in his apartment, phone in hand, ready to call Dean. He had spent the majority of the past several hours trying not to panic by cleaning, but he couldn't stop hearing the animosity in Dean's voice. Not much had been said, but that didn't stop Sam from worrying his head off. He could only hope Dean wasn't still bitter.

He checked the clock again. Ten forty-five at night. Dean should definitely be here by now. Sam sat down and bit at his nails. Where was he? Did he get in an accident? Was Dean going to just bail?

Twenty minutes later, Sam cleaned meticulously. He triple-checked the entire apartment looked nice and spotless and scrubbed the kitchen floor for the fourth time that morning.

After what seemed like eternity and a day, he heard a knock on the door. He rushed to put the sponge in the sink and go to the door, in the process hitting his hip on the table corner. Before opening the door, he dry swallowed two giant pills.

He saw his brother standing there, a strange expression on his face and his entire body tense and ready for action. Sam tried to ignore the gun in his hands. "Dean," Sam said stepping forward to give him a hug. Dean put a hand on his chest to stop him. He swallowed back the hurt and nodded. "Come in."

Dean walked in carefully and looked around, trying to detect any danger. "There aren't any monsters," Sam said. Dean glanced back at him and nodded, putting his gun in his jacket.

* * *

 _ **Dean's POV**_

Sam led the way to the way to the kitchen, saying, "Can I get you some water? Something to eat?"

Dean could sense the jittery-ness coming off his brother in waves. Another sign of Sam's anxiety: no clutter, litter, or dirt anywhere to be seen. The Sam he knew didn't bother picking up for his brother. Only when he got worried or afraid did he ever bother cleaning up. _Good,_ he thought, smirking a bit to himself. In the end, the reason for coming had been to find out why. _Why did Sam leave and why now?_ "I'm fine. Let's just get to the point."

"Right," he heard his brother mutter under his breath. He sat down at a small table and motioned for Dean to do the same. Dean took the chair on the opposite side of the table. He wanted to see his brother's face.

Sam looked everywhere but him, keeping quiet. "Why am I here, Sam?" he asked, tired of waiting for him to say something.

"Well, I - uh - was, you know, just wanting to - um-" He cleared his throat.

Dean raised his eyebrows. "No, I don't know. Spit it out."

Sam looked up at him, his puppy eyes on. "I wanted to try to bury the hatchet between us," he said, his voice soft as a mouse.

Dean leaned back and snickered. "I knew it," he said with a sneer. "You thought we could have some sort of _reconciliation_ after 11 years apart. You thought you could put on your big puppy dog eyes and I would come crawling back."

Sam shook his head. "No! Dean, I didn't think you'd come crawling back. I knew you wouldn't! I wanted to say - apologize for leaving you. So, Dean, I'm sorry that I left you. I'm sorry I never called. I'm sorry..."

Fury blinded him. "You're sorry? After all these years all you have to say is sorry? You left us! You never said goodbye and you never called. How could you do that to your own family? And now you're sorry?" Dean got his feet, shouting now. "Well, guess what? It's too little, too late. I will never forgive you for what you did. And there is nothing you can do about it."

Sam sat there stunned. His mouth hung open a little bit and the color completely drained from his face. Dean pinned him with his eyes and eventually saw a tear make its way down his brother's face. Dean scoffed and turned away in disgust. He put his coat back on, having seen enough. He should have trusted his gut telling him this would be a waste of time.

He started walking towards the door and heard the scrape and clatter of a chair hitting the floor. Sam rushed in front of Dean, eyes red with unshed tears and his hair looking strangely limp. "Dean. Please. Don't go. Just- hear me out, okay?" He gasped for breath, as though he'd just finished running a marathon.

Dean looked his little brother straight in the eye. He didn't bother hiding his contempt. He put all the hatred he could muster into that one look. "Goodbye, Sam."

Then he walked past Sam and out the door.

* * *

 ** _Sam's POV_**

He had lost everything. Everything was gone. There was no where left to go - no one left to turn to.

He limped back to the kitchen table, beginning to feel the pain in his leg again. At this point, he felt it would be most beneficial to cut it off so the pain would go away. He couldn't remember ever feeling so miserable. Not even the day he became crippled. He wanted to just lay down and sleep and never wake back up.

Sam didn't know how long he sat there reliving those few moments with his brother over and over. It was probably close to five in the morning - six hours later - when he felt the inexplicable urge - no need - to follow Dean and make sure he was safe. He couldn't rid himself of the sensation that something really, really bad was about to happen to his brother. He made a quick, irrational decision that minute. As quickly as he could, he packed in a bag a few clothes and his handgun, silver knife, salt, and iron crow bar - the only remains of his past life. He snatched his keys off the hook and headed out, not bothering to lock the door behind him. Not even five minutes after the feeling hit him, he was zooming after Dean, allowing instinct to guide him.

* * *

Eight hours later, Sam needed to sleep. He knew he would get himself in an accident if he drove much further. He thought he was somewhere in Nevada. He pulled into the nearest motel.

Whether by fate or some other mysterious force, there it was. The Impala was sitting all nice and pretty in the parking lot of the Capital Lot Motel. He decided it was probably best to steer clear of his brother for now and got a room several doors down from Dean. His brother hadn't seen the garage, so didn't know what car belonged to him. So long as he closed the blinds, he should remain safe from discovery for the night. Finally, completely spent, he climbed into bed, knowing his brother was not in danger at least until he woke up.

* * *

 _A/N: So what did you think? Did I portray angry Dean as you had imagined? My goal to make him as close to the Dean in the show as possible, the only change being he practically hates Sam - or does he? I almost want him to be like Demon!Dean or just pissed Dean (like in Season 8 when he was made at Sam for not looking for him) from the show. Did I do a good job? Please, please, please let me know via reviews! I really appreciate any and all feedback! Still looking for a beta at this point; PM me if you're interested._

 _Thank you again for reading! I am looking forward to updating soon!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural_

 _Warning: NOT A HAPPY STORY._

 _A/N: Good day! Another update! Thank you so, so much again for all your feedback! I am attempting to make the chapters longer, but I'm not that good at writing, so... yeah. I am going out of town for two weeks so I may not be able to update very much during that time. PLEASE CONTINUE TO REVIEW! Your reviews inspire me to write more and help me improve as a writer. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter!_

 _The lines mean either time change or POV change._

* * *

Sam woke up to the sound of someone banging on his door. Groggy, he peeked at the alarm clock next to him. Nine twenty-three. He groaned and flopped back down, hoping they might go away.

 _Bang! Bang! Bang!_ With a sigh, Sam put a shirt and pants on and hobbled over to the door. His limp was always more pronounced in the morning when he first got up.

Before he could register anything, his stomach was pressed against the floor, arms twisted behind his back. Sam yelled in pain and fought against the firm hands that were around his wrists.

His assailant bent over and snarled in his ear, "What hell are you doing? Why are you following me?"

Sam stopped struggling. "Dean?"

"Answer the question!" his brother shouted back, pulling his arms nearly out of the socket.

Sam gasped at the pain that radiated down his shoulder. "Gah! I had to know what was wrong," he confessed. An unwanted tear rolled down his cheek.

With one final tug, Dean released him. Sam rolled over to see his brother, not trying to get up.

"I told you what's wrong," Dean said, a certain edge to his features, "Stop trying to follow me and go home. You got what you wanted, now leave me be."

Sam's face dropped as his brother went to leave. "Wait! Dean, please. I wanna go hunting with you." The words escaped unbidden from Sam's mouth. But there was no taking them back now.

Dean stopped and turned back around, laughing. Sam was a little alarmed at the sardonic sound. He couldn't ever remember hearing such a laugh from his brother. He always meant it when he laughed. Now, it sounded forced - bitter. When he stopped, he scowled down at Sam. "You wanna go on a hunt? Do you even remember how to hunt?"

"Yes. I promise. I won't let you down." He knew he was practically begging, but at this point, he would take whatever he could get.

"Well, alright, Sammy." Dean grabbed his wrist and heaved Sam onto his feet. Sam made a barely audible hiss of pain, that he was sure Dean missed. "Follow me, I guess." With that Dean retreated.

Sam, not missing a beat, grabbed his unopened duffle and trailed after Dean to his room. He did his best to not limp, and swallowed two massive pain pills discreetly as they walked.

Dean didn't turn back or hold the door for Sam when they walked into Dean's room. Sam looked around, noting how methodical everything was. There were file folders with papers lying nice and tidy on the table. The few charts that hung on the wall were systematically placed. There was a certain precision to how his brother had set up. The duffle bag in the corner was the only thing that was not neat - he must have thrown his clothes in there before bed. Everything else was very... organized. It wasn't like the Dean he used to know.

Dean walked straight over to the table with the file folders and a map of what looked like hiking trails. "John sent me coordinates that lead to a case near Grand Junction, Colorado. A place called Blackwater Ridge. We're hunting a Wendigo." Dean was all professional, giving him all the information and research he had done for the case. "You'll follow me in your car. It'll take us about 12 more hours to get there."

"Wow, this is impressive. Was this what you were doing when I called you?" Sam asked, trying to start a light conversation.

"Yes, I was about to go after the damn thing when you interrupted. Thanks for that, by the way." Dean appeared annoyed at the question, his eyebrows raising and his tone suggesting that Sam should have already known.

Sam sighed. "Look, man. I didn't mean to freak you out, okay? I just - I needed to see you."

"Yeah, whatever," Dean muttered, putting his papers away. "You can nap on the couch over there if you need to. We're leaving tonight, though, so don't get cozy."

"Thanks, I appreciate that," Sam said, offering a small smile. He made his way over to the pitiful couch and lay down. It wasn't at all comfortable with his feet hanging nearly a foot and a half over the edge, and the cushions provided no support. He'd slept on worse though and would take it just to stay near his brother. The feeling of danger had returned right when they stepped through the doors to Dean's room.

And despite the animosity he clearly saw from Dean, he couldn't help but feel safe and protected like he used to. He knew his brother would still have his back just like before. Somewhere underneath all the masks and anger, he knew his brother still loved him.

It was these thoughts that sent Sam into a deep sleep.

* * *

 _ **Dean's POV**_

Sam was out as soon as he hit the couch. He didn't have any pillows or blankets. It was just like the little brother he knew to fall asleep wherever he could - even in the most uncomfortable spots and positions. He would often wake up sore though and beg Dean for massages. _Not anymore,_ Dean thought to himself. The first thing he did when he heard Sam start snoring gently was grab a bottle of whiskey and start drinking.

When Dean felt he had drank enough, he went through some of his notes for the hunt. He made plans and prepared as best he could for everything to go smoothly so he could get the whole mess over with. He mapped out the route they would take, where they would camp, and how they would attack. If everything went as planned they would be done in less than sixty hours.

He couldn't believe he was letting his brother come along. Now that he had moment to think properly (though he was still intoxicated) he decided he really did loathe Sam. The stubbornness and persistence he used to think was cute now really pissed him off.

His little brother had been sleeping for about two hours when the nightmares started. Sam was tossing and turning, barely managing to stay on the couch, and whimpering like a baby. Dean's initial reaction was to wake him up and soothe him. That feeling dissolved into annoyance at the continuation of the sounds. God, could he just shut up? After a few minutes of trying to block out the noise, Dean caught some of the words coming from him. His interest piqued, Dean sat still and listened to what his little brother was saying.

"Jess…. No, Jess, not you too - Please don't go…. Let me go… I have to help her…. I can't leave her…. No…. NO! She's not dead! She can't be gone!" He was yelling now, and struggling against an invisible foe. His face was contorted in agony and tears were streaming down his face. "Do something, please…" he begged. "Dean, please help her. Dean, please.… DEAN!" he screamed the last word and sat up abruptly. Breathing hard and sweat beading down his face, Sam swung around and saw Dean sitting behind him at the table. He looked away abruptly, cheeks flaming red with shame. "S-sorry, Dean," he sputtered, still trying to calm himself down.

Dean eyed him, curious as to what occurred. "Don't worry about it. You're definitely not sleeping with me though." He closed up the folder he had open with the newspaper clippings and articles and maps he was looking at.

Sam nodded, clearly embarrassed. He stood up and walked over to his bag where he pulled out a bottle of whiskey. He then walked - somewhat oddly though - over to the chair across from Dean and sat down.

Dean debated whether he should try to get Sam to talk about it. He wondered who Jess was and what happened and why he was mentioned. He didn't want to seem interested though. He didn't want Sam to think he cared about his well-being or anything. He didn't. He did hate him, but he wasn't so heartless that he would play with Sam's emotions. The only reason he was allowing Sam to come was because he knew Sam would just follow anyway.

Strengthening his resolve, Dean asked, "So who's Jess?"

* * *

 _A/N: Uh-oh! What's going to happen next? What would you like to see happen next? Did the meeting go as you had thought? Did it go better? Worse? Review and tell me what you think! What would like to see happen next?_

 _Also, just so everyone know: Jess is dead. Sam is crippled. This story will follow the show chronologically pretty closely. I will be skipping some parts in the show, but I won't ever go backwards._

 _Thank you again for reading and thank you to all those who have reviewed already! I look forward to hearing back from you guys!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural_

 _Warning: NOT A HAPPY STORY._

 _A/N: Hello! Fair warning, this chapter is SUPER short, but I will probably update in a couple days so don't freak out. I am currently out of town, but the reviews I received from you have inspired my to update sooner than I thought. Thank you to Jotade, foreverafangirl93, babyreaper, , dabo pacem, PriWinchester, stedan, and my 1 guest for leaving reviews! I really enjoyed hearing from you guys and will do my best to answer all your questions right here. If I don't explain well enough or you are still confused, let me know after this chapter and the next._

 _Stedan: You will find out how Jess got killed, I haven't forgotten her. You will also find out how Sam got crippled, though not for quite a few more chapters. I haven't decided 100% on an ending yet. I might have Dean forgive him, I might not. I will take your opinion into consideration though. Let me know if it changes in the coming chapters. ;)_

 _Dabo pacem: I'm happy that you're happy! I've been leaning towards not having Dean forgive Sam, but as I said above, I haven't completely made my decision yet. It's still up in the air. Let me know if you're opinion changes in the coming chapters at all. I will definitely consider what you said when I decide how to end this. :)_

 _Babyreaper: That's the plot of my story is that Dean hates Sam. I understand it's not what happened in the show and that it may be a bit far fetched, but this is what I thought would be interesting to write about. I hope you start to enjoy my story more in the coming chapters. :)_

 _Again, so sorry for the short chapter. I will update as soon as possible._

 _The lines mean either time change or POV change._

* * *

 _ **Sam's POV**_

Sam glanced up at his brother at the question. He hoped he hadn't said too much in his sleep. Clearly he did though. He didn't want to get into it, but knew he had to have some honesty with Dean if he ever wanted to regain his brother's trust. "Um, a girl I dated," he replied. He would have to be truthful, but he wouldn't say anymore than necessary. He didn't want Dean's pity or worse - for Dean to believe Sam was weak.

Dean nodded, seeming satisfied for the present. Sam let out a small sigh of relief as Dean took another swig of his drink. Sam knew that his brother wouldn't let it go and would definitely push for more details later. In the meantime, Sam would just have to think of a good cover up story so Dean wouldn't see his mistake.

Dean checked his watch and said, "Well, we may as well hit the road now. No point in staying here any longer." He stood up and packed up the remaining things that he had out. Sam stood as well - wobbling a bit before regaining his balance - and grabbed his duffle and started walked unevenly out to his car.

"You wanna just follow me?" Dean asked. Sam glanced up at Dean and for the first time since they had been reunited, Dean seemed unsure of himself. The look dissipated quickly when Dean noticed Sam staring.

Sam cleared his throat. "Yeah, sure."

Dean nodded, ending the conversation. Sam took his leave, hoping that he was doing the right thing. He still couldn't rid himself of the impression that something terrible was going to happen. Once in his car, he swallowed another pain pill. He couldn't let his bum leg stop him from hunting. He refused to act weak.

* * *

13 hours later, Dean pulled into the parking lot at the base of a hiking trail, Sam right on his tail. A sign just ahead told them they had arrived at Blackwater Ridge. Dean parked the black car quickly and walked to the trunk to get the necessary gear. Sam joined his brother soon, his posture and face displaying utter exhaustion. Dean handed him a flare gun. Sam took it wordlessly, knowing it's use.

After reviewing the plan once more the boys trekked off into the woods. Dean led the way through the trees, Sam trailed awkwardly after him. Several times he fell behind and Dean paused impatiently for him to catch up. After stopping for the fifth time Dean snapped, "If you can't keep up better, I'll just leave your ass behind."

The blood drained from Sam's face as Dean turned away to keep going. He didn't see Sam swallow three more pain pills. Sam seemed to keep up a little bit better after that.

Six hours of silent hiking later, they stop to make camp for the night. "You set up camp, I'll work on protection," Dean ordered without a single look. Dean threw his stuff down and headed off.

Meanwhile, the pain in Sam's leg was excruciating, the painkillers having done little to take away the pain. He sat down on a nearby log and swallowed another two pills, noting the fact he only had one left. _How in the hell will I be able to kill a Wendigo if I can't even stand?_ He would need to be very careful with his last one and hurry to get the hunt over with.

He took only a minute to rest before starting on collecting firewood. It didn't take long for him to start a fire, the training he'd received growing up coming back rather easy. By the time he'd finished with the fire, Dean was able to help set up their tents. Though he'd figured it from the start, it hurt Sam some that they were to sleep in separate tents. Dean set up his tent across the fire from him - the furthest he possibly could without leaving the boundary of their protective sigils. Sam could almost see the tension between them. He cooked up some dinner - Ramen that he'd bought at one of their gas stops - and sat across from Dean as they ate. He wondered what he should say if anything.

* * *

 _A/N: So sorry for the short chapter! The next chapter is MUCH longer and I didn't want to combine this one and the last one. I hope you enjoyed it anyways! I love receiving feedback from you guys! Please continue to review and let me know how I'm doing. If you are confused as to what's going on or what's going to happen, let me know! I will do my best to clarify without giving away what's going to happen next._

 _Thank you again for reading and all the reviews! I love you guys!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural_

 _Warning: NOT A HAPPY STORY._

 _A/N: Again, I'm sorry for making the last chapter so short. This one is longer, I promise. Thank you for the constructive reviews! I enjoy reading them and hearing what you guys have to say about my writing._

 _Dabo pacem: Again, still leaning towards that. Unless I have a bunch of people that are adamant on Dean forgiving Sam that is likely how I'll end it._

 _Stedan: I'm glad you think I did a good job! And if you think it's intense now, you just wait. It gets better (I hope). I was sort of going for that sort of unforgiving, angry version of Dean. I'm glad you think I did that accurately. ;)_

 _PriWinchester: I can't wait to hear what you think of this either! :)_

 _The lines mean either time change or POV change._

* * *

 _ **Dean's POV**_

Sam ate his food without a word, but Dean couldn't contain his curiosity about their conversation back at the motel. He glanced at Sam between bites, trying to get a read on his emotions and gauging if his brother would be the one to bring it up. When silence reigned, Dean realized that Sam wouldn't crack very easy. Strange how they ended up here when they had once been so close. In the end, it was Dean who broke the silence first. "So tell me about Jess," he stated as if he were commenting on the weather.

Sam, who had just finished his small meal, sat up a bit straighter. "Well, we met in one of our psychology classes. I thought she was the prettiest girl I ever saw and told her so before asking her if she would like to have dinner with me. Two and a half years later we were... well, we were engaged."

Dean made a weird choking sound and coughed twice before saying in a strained voice, "You got engaged? Wow, umm, congrats, I guess."

Sam, with a bit more confidence, continued. "Thanks. We got got married at DisneyLand a few years ago. It was a pretty small wedding. A couple family members from her side and some friends of ours. We moved into our own house a little while after that. I got my degree in law and she became a licensed counselor..." He trailed off, lost in thought.

"Well, sounds like you found your apple-pie life, after all," Dean commented a bit scathing.

Sam gave Dean an intense look. "You think I would have offered to go on a hunt if I were living an apple-pie life?"

Before Dean could respond, a wail sounded off in the distance. Sam sprinted towards the source before Dean had time to stop him. He hesitated - if he left, they would likely lose their stuff; stay and Sam could die. Scowling with frustration he yelled, "SAM! IT'S A TRICK! GET BACK HERE!" Dean waited a moment. Nothing. "Son of a bitch," he muttered.

He was about to step over the boundary of their camp when a rustling from within caught his attention. He spun around and saw the Wendigo looming only a few yards away. He stepped back until he went over the line of protection - that was apparently useless - and realized too late he grabbed the wrong gun.

The Wendigo shrieked and took a step towards Dean. "HEY!" Two gun shots sounded to his left. The monster let out another ear piercing cry and Dean saw Sam standing there holding his shotgun; neither of them grabbed the right weapon. The creature rushed at Sam and grabbed him. "NO!" Dean screamed, but they were already gone. He ran to get his flare gun, then took off in a westward direction. He ran confidently, trusting his memory of the maps he'd drawn and traced and gone over numerous times to guide him.

Dean ran as hard as he could until he tripped over a root sticking out of the ground. A sense of hopelessness fell upon Dean at that moment. The Wendigo would reach it's hiding spot in less than an hour, it would take Dean at least two even if he ran the entire way. He cursed and quickly got up and started running again. He would still pursued the monster that took his brother. He wouldn't give up.

* * *

Two hours later Dean reached at the entrance of a mine that went deep underground. Down there the creature took up residence and Dean knew he would find Sam at the end. Dean headed in with careful steps. He crept quiet as a mouse through the tunnels, grateful that it was a straight shoot and there weren't any splitting paths.

Before long, the awful stench of death reached his nose. He powered through the stink and managed to finally reach the end of the tunnel. There was only one problem.

No one was there. Wendigoes normally hung up their prey and would slowly eat them. If no one hung then that meant they were already dead... Dread began to seep into his veins as he thought about the implications of that.

Dean shook aside his fear and started searching for one of the recent victims. He dared not include Sam as a victim. Not yet. He recognized a few of the faces from newspaper clippings he'd gone through, but they were all long dead. The victims from the past few weeks were absent. Dean could only think of one reason there weren't any fresh bodies: the Wendigo switched his cave.

"Oh, come on!" He shouted into the darkness. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to think of what to do next. It took him several days to find this nest, everyone would be dead by the time he figured out where the new hideout.

Dean headed out of the mine refusing to give in. The first rays of sunlight started to peek through the trees as he breathed fresh air again. Without hesitation, Dean hiked back to their camp.

When he got back, he noticed all their supplies was - unsurprisingly - gone. Dean looked through the scattered remains of their camp, trying to find clues as to where it may have taken Sam.

Forty-five minutes later Dean found what he sought.

When they had stopped at the gas station where Sam bought Ramen, his little brother also bought M&M's. He offered them to Dean, who declined. He wasn't about to forgive Sam over a bag of chocolate.

Now, in the middle of the woods, Dean saw a trail of candy leading away from their campsite like in Hansel and Gretel. He murmured to himself, "You always were the smart one."

Dean recovered what he could from the ruined tents, including the few provisions he buried when they arrived. Then he took off to follow the trail. A sense of urgency filled him. The Wendigo would want to kill Sam sooner rather than later, so if Dean wanted to save his brother he needed to hurry.

Not even thirty minutes later, he found another entrance to a mine. The rancid smell of decaying meat was much less prominent inside and Dean took courage in that. He advanced through the cave that again had few twists and turns. Dean took a right at the only cross section. If he got lost it wouldn't be that hard to go back and take a left. He was thankful that his dad enforced the practice of studying every aspect of a hunt before going in. Dean already knew the presence of every cave, tunnel, and mine - abandoned or not - in the entire stretch of woods. He knew there was only that one cross section and escape would be easy.

It didn't take long for Dean to reach the end of the shaft. He felt a wave of relief crash over him when he saw Sam hanging there, unconscious, but alive. Though Dean would never admit it, he felt an invisible weight taken off his shoulders when he saw his brother. Dean quickly cut his brother free and did the same to the victims. Then, he sat them all along the wall of the hole - he couldn't take all of them at once.

Once all four people were placed, Dean called out for the monster. "Alright, you son of a bitch! Let's see what you got." He started making as much noise as he could. It wasn't long before the Wendigo started howling and came out of it's corner. Dean aimed his flare gun and with one quick shot, flames consumed the creature. Dean watched as it burned. He walked over to the pile of ashes and spat on it.

Because Dean couldn't possibly hope to take all four people out at once, he left his food and water then made his way to the nearest place where he could get reception. Just as he was about to dial 9-1-1, Some great force overtook him. He flipped himself over and saw the ugly face of another Wendigo roaring at him. Dean tried to stretch for his flare gun that fell to the side, but it was just out his grasp. He wrestled with the monster for several minutes before finally reaching his flare gun and shooting it in the chest.

At last, Dean managed to call for rescue. He gave them his location to the best of his ability, then slumped against a tree. Exhaustion and fatigue weighed him down, but he forced himself to stay awake until help arrived.

As the adrenaline that had been pumping through him slowly lessened, he felt an agonizing pain on his right upper leg. He looked down and saw huge slash marks across the top of his thigh. It must have gotten him while they were tussling on the ground. The wound was pretty wide and deep. Dean took a moment to control his pulse then took off his shirt and put it over the scar marks. It wasn't a life threatening injury. He would live. He would definitely need stitches and there was good chance he wouldn't be able to run on it for a little bit. Hopefully, with the help of some painkillers, he would be able to get back to hunting pretty fast. The scars will make a great story for the ladies, too.

Before he knew it, Dean could hear the footsteps of the EMT approaching. It was only then, that Dean allowed himself to fall into a deep reprieve.

* * *

 _A/N: You're probably thinking one of two things: 1) that was stupid; 2) THAT WAS SO INTENSE I NEED MORE! I hope you're thinking the second one, but I personally think that this section is sort of boring. There's a good chance I'll come back to this later and add more description. Do you think I should? Let me know via reviews!_

 _Thank you so much for reading! I really appreciate all the feedback and support I've received for this story. I'm happy to see that people are actually enjoying it! I will update as soon as I can! I pinky swear!_


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural_

 _Warning: NOT A HAPPY STORY._

 _A/N: Oh my goodness. I can't believe you all hanging. :( I'm so sorry! I feel awful. In my defense though, I was on vacation. But, I'm back now with another update! I hope you all enjoy it just as much as my other ones. Ann: I'm glad you're enjoying my fanfiction so much! I will take your advice into consideration, though I think I have a different ending in mind. Dabo pacem: IKR?! I'm glad you enjoyed that part. I wanted to add a little bit of my own personal touch to it. ;) Stedan: Just you wait. That may all change. PriWinchester: I'm glad you think so! I've been working so hard on this fanfic and I'm so very proud of it! Guest: Well, here it is!_

 _Without further ado: the update._

 _The lines mean either time change or POV change._

* * *

The next day, Dean woke up in the hospital. He knew where he was immediately, the events of the previous day returning to him very clearly. That plus the smell of antiseptic and sadness gave it away. He wondered how Sam was holding up - his brother's wounds looked pretty serious, but it was impossible to tell how much so in the dank blackness of the tunnel.

Soon enough, a nurse came in to change his bandages. He flirted half-heartedly with her, distracted by thoughts of how the people he had rescued were - especially Sam. He didn't know why, but he felt a little bit of pity for the youngest Winchester. Sam had found his place in life; he had found a wife. He felt as though he owed it to Jess to return her husband home safely - for her happiness, not Sam's. He didn't feel he owed Sam anything. _Even though he saved your life?_ He hadn't forgotten that the reason Sam was taken was to distract the Wendigo from taking Dean.

Dean was soon taken from his thoughts when a police officer came in.

The officer came around to the side of the bed and said, "I see you've had quite a vacation, Mr. East. If you don't mind, I would like to hear from you what happened in the woods the past two days."

Dean grimaced. "Yeah, vacation. You see, I came out here with my cousin, Sam Ross, for a little bit of hiking. We were sleeping in our tents when a grizzly bear came over to our camp. My cousin tried to get rid of it, but it ended up taking him to a cave. I followed it there and shot it. I don't think it's dead because the thing ran off after that and that's when I called 9-1-1." He knew he was a smooth liar, but that sounded better than most of his stories.

"Okay, and were you aware of that three people had already gone missing before you went into the woods?"

"No, sir."

The officer asked a few more questions about how to contact him and where he lived. Dean gave his fake information willingly.

"Alright, thanks for your help. Your doctor should be in soon to speak with you." The officer stood up shook hands with him and then left.

Dean was alone for another thirty minutes, flipping through the channels on the TV when his doctor came in - the one person he'd been wanting to see. He pulled himself up his bed a bit.

"Afternoon, Mr. East. My name is Dr. Wilde and I'll be your doctor for the time being." Dr. Wilde held out his hand. He was balding on his head and had kind brown eyes. He appeared to be in his mid-forties.

Dean shook his outstretched hand. "Nice to meet you, doc. Call me Dean." He averted his eyes for a moment, not liking to have to lie to what seemed like a good guy.

"Alright, Dean. How are you feeling right now? Is there any pain anywhere?" Dr. Wilde started flipping through some of his charts, pen poised to write.

Dean took a moment before answering. "Doing pretty good. I don't feel any pain at all."

The older man gave him a hard look, clearly trying to decide if he was lying through his teeth (which he was). Then he wrote a couple notes and said, "Well, I think you should probably stay another twenty-four hours for us to monitor you pain and make sure infection doesn't -"

"That's not necessary, doc," Dean interjected, "I just wanna see my cousin and make sure he's doing alright." He noted that the doctor seemed to stiffen at the mention of Sam.

Dr. Wilde gave him another long look. "I would advise against that, Dean. Your injury was pretty severe and I don't want you walking on that leg for at least a week."

Dean gave a short laugh. "Seriously, I'm fine. Where's my cousin?"

"How about I make you deal? If you let my nurses monitor you for another forty-eight hours and stay in a wheelchair or in your bed, I'll let you go. Sound good?" Dean was starting to feel slightly nervous at the lack of news of his brother. What wasn't the doctor saying?

Dean shifted in his bed and had to suppress a hiss of pain. His leg was more tender than he had originally thought. Dean sighed in frustration, though it came out as more of a growl. "Fine, just tell me how Sam is doing."

The doctor seemed to jerk a bit again. "We do have some questions that you need to answer, but, Mr. East, I'll be honest with you. Sam is not doing well at all."

It was Dean's turn to tense up. "Why not? What happened?" He thought back to the mine and what Sam had looked like then. He could recall a slash on his abdomen, he didn't know how deep, a shallow gash on his forehead, and various other minor scratches.

The doctor was talking again. "Mr. Ross experienced severe head trauma and had a punctured lung. He came out of surgery a couple hours ago and won't be waking up for at least another five or six. He has a sprained wrist and his left leg had some nerve damage. We're unsure if the nerve damage in his leg was as a result of this trip or if he had an accident prior to coming to us. Do you know if his leg was lame before you went hiking this week?"

For a moment, Dean was frozen. He forced out, "No, I had no idea about his leg." He knew that wasn't entirely true though. Sam had struggled to keep up the entire time they were walking. Could that be what the doctor meant?

Dr. Wilde took a couple notes then asked, "What about his mental health? Does he have a history of depression?"

Every question felt like an electric shock to his system, sending more and more guilt flooding through him. "Not that I know of. Look, we recently started talking again. I haven't seen him in - long time." Dean was reluctant to admit how long.

The doctor looked at him with pity. "I'm sorry, Dean. The reason I ask is because we had to pump his stomach because he overdosed on a heavy duty painkiller. It was likely prescribed, so we assumed that he was lame prior to coming into our care. We just wanted to double check our facts with you before we talked to him."

Heat boiled in his veins, threaten to explode. He wanted to beat the kid to a pulp for not telling him about - anything. A small part also wanted to make sure he was okay, though it was mostly overwhelmed by rage he felt. "Let me see him," Dean said.

He nodded. "Of course, but before I have the nurses take you over, I want to warn you that he is hooked up to many machines. We had to insert a feeding and breathing tube as well. Don't worry, the monitors are to help him and for the nurses to make sure he is doing well. Also, I must warn you that due to his concussion there is a chance that he will go into a coma. If he does, the machines will alert the nurses to the change and they will make the necessary adjustments. We don't expect that to happen, but I wanted to prepare you in case it does."

He couldn't help feel entirely responsible for his brother's fate. If he had shot the monster with the proper gun when he had the chance this entire ordeal would have been avoided. It didn't mean he wasn't still pissed as hell at his brother, but he didn't want to be the one to tell his wife that she was a widow. He didn't want his brother dead. Dean swallowed hard against the bile rising in his throat. "Yeah, okay, just let me see him," he repeated.

Dr. Wilde nodded and walked out. Ten minutes later a young female nurse came in with a wheelchair. She helped him into it and then she took him down to ICU. It didn't even occur to him that he wasn't flirting with the pretty nurse. He was focused entirely on Sam.

They rounded the last corner and Dean got his first look at Sam. His first impression was that he was dead. As the nurse moved him closer, he could see that his chest was rising and falling. He was so _pale_. He looked almost translucent. Just as Dr. Wilde had said, Sam was connected to many monitors that monitored one thing or another. The chorus of noise from the machines and the hiss of the ventilator did nothing to soothe Dean's nerves. For the first time in nearly eleven years Dean wanted to see his brother's eyes. He wanted to see his brother up and moving around. He wanted him to be okay.

As the nurse left him there with his comatose brother, Dean sat in the chair just staring at him. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. Should he hold his hand? Should he talk to him? Talking wouldn't work; he had no clue what to say. He couldn't just say "I'm sorry" when he didn't even know if he was. Half of him thought that Sam deserved what he got for running off to begin with. It was that same part that held onto the rage he felt towards him. Somehow, it didn't feel quite as justified as before though. Sam got his happily ever after, who was Dean to be angry at him for that and try to deny it to him?

There was another question that lingered at the back of his mind, too. _Why did Sam leave Jess?_ He couldn't think of any reasonable answer to that. The only thing he knew was that all was not well in his brother's apple pie life.

Dean waited silently for nearly seven hours when the nurses came in and said it was time to go. Dean tried to tell them no and caused a huge scene as they tried to take him away. Eventually, they dosed him with a sedative and took him back to his room.

* * *

 _A/N: What do you think of this chapter? I've been getting mixed reviews as to whether or not you guys want Dean to forgive Sam or not. Some of you do, some don't. So, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, tell me what you want. I have a few ways I could end this one with Dean forgiving him, one not, and one sort of in the middle. So please give me some feedback on what you do and don't like about what I've written so far. It will greatly increase the chances of you getting the ending you want. Thank you so much again for reading! I love you all!_


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural_

 _Warning: NOT A HAPPY STORY._

 _A/N: Hey... Yeah, I know it's been too long. This is the EXACT reason I hesitated to post the first chapter of this story to begin with! It wasn't finished and I didn't know if I could finish it before I went to college! Well, now I'm here and I guess I can post the next chapter for everyone to enjoy. It may be a while between this and the next update, and for that I am sorry. I truly apologize for such a long and agonizing wait. I will do everything I can to prevent it until the completion of the story, but no promises._

 _The lines mean either time change or POV change._

* * *

Dean woke up the following morning feeling groggy, but a quick sip of water roused him quick. A nurse came in to check on him pretty soon after. She was a bigger black lady and seemed to have a no-nonsense air about her. "How's Sam?" he asked without so much as a greeting.

"He woke up during the night. He didn't say anything and seemed to be pretty out of it. The doctors are running a few more tests," She answered, barely looking at him.

Dean felt a mixture of emotions; mainly relief. "Can I see him?"

She gave him a fixed look. "After what I hear you tried pulling off last night? You'll need to talk to your doctor before we'll take you back down to see him."

Dean clenched his fists. He could already tell she would be difficult. "When will he be here? I need to see Sam," he shot back.

"He'll get here at around ten. Now, do yourself a favor and calm down. You _don't_ need to see him right now, he's not even awake. You need to focus on you and get better. Then we can see about getting you into see him." She put her hands on her hips facing him full on now, daring him to protest.

Dean scowled at her. He hated being treated like a petulant child who had been caught doing something naughty. Keeping his mouth firmly closed, he let her leave with no complaint. As soon as she was gone, he started brainstorming how to get down to see his brother. He could always just sneak out like normal, but he knew that she would catch him - she seemed like the kind of person that never let anything slip. He could do it the old fashioned way and pull the fire alarm. But then they would take Sam from his room. He kept thinking until finally he cooked up a decent plan.

He pressed the button for a nurse to come in and help him. Then he put on his best pained face and moaned, "My leg - it hurts. Oh, god, please! The painkillers aren't working."

The nurse was young and clearly inexperienced. She put her hands out in confusion and said, "Uh... What do you need?"

"The doctor. Please. I need to see him immediately!" he pleaded.

"Uh-uh," a voice said from the doorway, "This boy must be crazy. I know he didn't just try to fake being in pain to get his doctor here!" It was the mean nurse.

Dean, keeping up his facade, groaned, "No! I'm serious, please. Call him, I need help!"

The younger nurse escaped while Ms. I-Take-My-Job-Too-Seriously replied, "Mm-hmm. And I'm a fish. Boy, you better knock this crap off before I dose you up with another sedative."

Dean finally stopped and glared at her. "What is wrong with you? I just need to see my br - cousin!" He almost forgot to keep up his other lie.

"Oh, so now you're not just faking your pain, but lying about the fact that your cousin ain't your cousin. Yeah, that's it, I'm getting you another shot." She turned to leave.

"Wait!" he exclaimed. He sighed and grumbled, "I'll wait."

"What was that? I didn't hear you."

"I said, I'll wait!" he retorted. He was really beginning to hate this woman.

"Fine." She sashayed her hips out. Dean glowered at her retreating figure.

He looked at the clock on the wall. Eight fifty-five. At least it wasn't too much longer until Dr. Wilde would show up.

* * *

In the end, the doctor didn't show up for another hour and a half. Dean was steaming with frustration. The main reason his doctor came when he did was partly due to the shouting he could hear coming from Dean's room. Dr. Wilde came in cautiously and saw Dean arguing with Mrs. Tony, one of the nurses. "I wouldn't have to yell, if you would just tell the doctor I need to see him!" Dean saw him and exclaimed, "Finally!"

Dr. Wilde smiled gently and replied, "Yes, I'm here. Mrs. Tony, the man in room sixty-seven needs a snack, would mind grabbing him something?" The nurse walked out, giving Dean one last withering look. "Dean, you need to behave if you want to see your cousin again." Dean opened his mouth to say something again, but Dr. Wilde held up a finger and said, "I'm not going to prevent you from seeing him. I just don't want the nurses to only focus on restraining you rather than on their jobs. You understand me?" Dean nodded, looking slightly abashed, but still fuming. "Let me check your bandages and then we'll see about getting you down to Sam." Dean sat up while Dr. Wilde changed the wraps on his leg. "Looking good! It's healing quite nicely. I'm glad we got it cleaned as early as we did. There's no sign of infection." Dean didn't say anything, merely watching as the other man replaced the old wrap with a clean one. When Dr. Wilde finished, he said, "Well, I guess we better get you down to see Sam."

Dean nodded, feeling a small pit begin to form in his stomach. Sam would likely be awake when he went down. Now that Dean was actually faced with having to talk to his younger brother, he felt he might be sick. He didn't feel as angry, after all Sam had saved his life, but he had no idea how to handle his brother. Sam had lied to him - or at least covered up the fact that he was lame. Dean didn't know how to feel about that.

Dean was assisted into a wheelchair and taken out of his room. As he passed the nurse's station, he saw the awful black nurse - Mrs. Tony - giving him an evil stare and shaking her head. Dean resisted the urge to stick out his tongue at her. He didn't want to think about what he would see, so on their way down to see Sam, Dean tried flirting with the pretty nurse taking him. She didn't really catch on.

Before he knew it he was turning the corner to his brother's room. Even though he knew what to expect, he took in sharp breath when he saw his brother again. He wasn't quite so pale as before and his bed was angled slightly up so Sam could see in the door a bit better. Sam's eyes were staring at a TV screen, though Dean could tell he wasn't interested. As the nurse wheeled Dean closer, Sam turned and saw him. His brother's eyes widened, looking partly surprised, partly afraid. Dean had to look away, but could feel his brother watching him. When he reached the side of Sam's bed the nurse retreated. Dean looked everywhere else except his brother. He didn't want Sam to know how guilty he felt about what had happened. He felt slightly responsible for landing Sam in a hospital bed unable to get up or move.

They sat in silence for a minute when a sniffle from Sam broke the silence. Dean's head snapped up to see tears rolling down his little brother's face. "Why are you crying?" The question came out harsher than Dean intended. It reminded Dean of their father who viewed tears as a vulnerability and would have never allowed either of his sons to cry. The only time Sam had ever cried was in front of Dean and very rarely even then, not wanting to be seen as weak.

The tears immediately ceased. Sam winced in pain as he lifted a bandaged hand and tried to wipe away them away. Dean quickly grabbed a tissue and dabbed at his cheeks for him. "I'm sorry." Sam stated quietly.

"For what?" Dean replied a bit softer this time. He couldn't imagine what his brother would be apologizing for other than something that wasn't his fault.

"That you're, you know, hurt." Sam was the one avoiding eye contact now.

Dean sighed. His predictions were right. "It's not your fault, Sam," he insisted. "You saved my life. You saved me, even though you could have died." Dean waited for Sam to look at him. "Thank you." Sam nodded jerkily, looking away again. Dean shifted as much as he dared without hurting himself then said, "So, uh, is there something you wanna tell me about?"

Sam blanched and his eyes filled with fear. Dean could hear the monitor next to him start beeping louder and faster. "They told you," Sam whispered. It didn't sound like a question.

"Yes, they told me about your leg. It's okay though, just take some deep breaths, okay? They won't let me stay if you panic." Dean coached Sam through some deep breathing. When the monitors calmed down, he continued, "They told me you have nerve damage in your leg. They told me it isn't from this trip. That you had it before we went hunting."

Sam looked at his hands fiddling with the blanket over him. "Yes." Sam didn't offer any more information, but that wasn't enough for Dean.

"Well, can you tell me what happened?" Dean pressed. He could feel a little impatience begin to rise up in him. At the same time, though, Dean felt bad for his brother - if he were crippled... well, he'd probably have killed himself. Dean shoved the thought away before it went any farther.

Sam squeezed his eyes closed. "Dean, please. I really don't want to talk about it," he whispered.

Rage finally overtook Dean and he threw his hands up in the air. Dean wished he could stand up because he wanted to pace, but he knew his injured leg couldn't take his weight at the moment. "Then what was the point? Huh? After eleven years - over a decade, Sam - you want to start talking again, but now you don't want to? Why did you really call me?" He knew he was being harsh, but his temper was currently out of his control.

Sam flinched at the final statement and eventually managed to say, "You think I'm - trying to get something from you?" Dean didn't say anything, just shrugged. "Dean, I'm not. I - just... I can't talk about it yet."

That was the last straw for Dean. He hit the button for a nurse and said, "Well, next time you need to talk, don't bother calling me. I won't answer."

Sam shook his head. "You can't mean that, Dean. I need you. Please, don't go."

But Dean wasn't looking at him anymore. Dean stopped listening to his brother's pleas for forgiveness. As Sam's heart rate started going up, three nurses came in, one to take Dean away and the others tried calming him down. Dean could hear his brother shouting for him as the nurse took him away. Dean never looked back.

* * *

 _A/N: Alrighty and we're basically back to square one. Yay. I hope this is going how you want and that you're enjoying my story so far. I personally think my writing is pretty awful. It sounds much better in my head. Let me know what you think! I want to hear from every single one of my readers. Do you like it? Hate it? Tell me with kind words and I will do my best to respond and change stuff likewise. Thank you so much for taking time to read/look at my story! I appreciate all the reviews so far and the support and love from you guys. Keep it up! And again, truly sorry for the length between the updates!_


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural_

 _Warning: NOT A HAPPY STORY._

 _A/N: Again, I'm sorry for making the last chapter so short. This one is longer, I promise. So sorry for not updating as well! I started college and have been crazy busy with homework and adjusting. But here is chapter 8. Chapter 9 is longer and will hopefully answer some questions for you guys as well. Anyway, hopefully this will answer some questions and help you figure more things out. If not, I KNOW most of your questions will be answered in chapters 10 and 11! I hope you enjoy this chapter, and don't forget to leave a review!_

 _The lines mean either time change or POV change._

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The next day Dean started some physical therapy and a week later he was walking on his own and discharged from the hospital. He had requested not to have any contact with Sam and hadn't heard anything of his brother's progress the whole time. But the time alone had given him plenty of time to think over what had happened and Dean finally - after much deliberation - decided to give his brother another chance and try to talk to him.

As Dean was filling out the last of his paperwork with his doctor, he broached the topic. "So, how's Sam doing?" He tried to be casual about how he said it, but he felt a twinge of guilt as he asked. He knew it had been a week without a single word, but he had just needed some space.

Dr. Wilde finished writing a couple of notes then looked carefully up at him. "I'm not permitted to disclose information on Sam's well being."

Dean felt his jaw drop. "Why not?"

"When you made the decision to break off communication with Sam, he decided to do the same and is now in the care of another doctor. I don't even know who. He may even be in another hospital for all I know." The doctor met Dean's eyes with a measured stare, gauging his reaction.

"Why would he do that?" Dean said lowly to himself. He couldn't believe Sam would cut him off so completely. It wasn't like his brother, at least the brother he knew, the Sam he knew would have fought to find Dean and done everything he could to talk to him. _But this isn't the Sam you knew_ , Dean reminded himself.

Dr. Wilde, thinking Dean had addressed him, responded, "Same reason as you: privacy."

That statement threw Dean off. If what the doctor said was true, then what was Sam hiding from him? Why didn't he just tell Dean? _Because you pushed him away._ Dean refused to believe that. "Okay, well, thanks for everything, doc," Dean answer the other man, holding his hand out to shake.

Dr. Wilde took it saying, "No problem at all, Dean. I hope you have safe drive home." Dean released his hand and turned to leave when the doctor put his hand on Dean's shoulder, pulling him close. "Between you and me," the doctor spoke in a low voice, "Find Sam. Last I saw, he wasn't doing too well. Very... troubled." Dr. Wilde pulled away and gave a single nod before walking away, leaving Dean to process what he had said.

Bewildered at the doctor's warning, Dean went back to the motel room where he found all his stuff, but none of Sam's. He knew that he needed to clear out - the manager had probably figured out his credit card faker than a three dollar bill and would be after them soon. He was concerned at the absence of Sam's belongings, but escaping the wrath of the motel took precedence.

Once he had put fifty miles between himself and the town, he decided to try and call Sam. Predictably, Sam's phone went to voicemail. "Damn it!" Dean yelled, slamming his fists against the steering wheel. He allowed himself a moment of panic before taking a deep breath and reflecting on where his brother may have gone.

Sam used to run straight to him whenever he was in trouble. Clearly, things had changed, and now Dean was clueless on how to handle him. There was only one way to learn more... He sped off towards Martinsville, California to see what he could find out on his brother.

* * *

Nearly thirty-six hours later Dean was finally pulling into the apartment complex where Sam had been living. A mixture of emotions ran through him as he looked up at the third floor of the complex where Sam had been living. There were no lights on, which didn't bode well for Dean. _Just get it over with_ , he told himself.

He walked up the stairs and knocked on the door. He waited. No answer. He checked to make sure no one was around before picking the lock. He heard a satisfying click, and pushed the door open. It was completely silent inside. He turned on a light and started walking through, paying careful attention to all the details and things that Sam had. He saw very few decorations on the walls and shelves. He didn't see much of... _anything_ really. Everything he saw had a purpose and it was kept very neat. In the living room there was a bookshelf with no more than 20 books - at least half of them textbooks - and a small, two-person sofa and a desk in the corner with a lamp and other standard desk materials. In the kitchen the counters were bare of any mess and looked exactly as it had when he had been there... almost three weeks ago. Dean was startled that so much time had passed. He didn't bother looking through the kitchen or tiny bathroom - if Sam had anything of value, it would be in his bedroom. He walked down a short hall to where he assumed the bedroom was. Taking a deep breath he stepped in, turned on the light and looked around. Nothing. It was as bare as the rest of the apartment. Dean growled in frustration and slammed his fist on the dresser.

Then he smelled it. Inhaling deeply, Dean could smell the awful, rotten-egg stench of sulfur. Dean searched for the source and found dust laying all around the nightstand on the opposite side of the king sized bed. Based on the amount there was, Dean guessed there were maybe three or four demons here at one point. The only strange part was that there was no sign of a fight. The sheets on the large bed (the size of which itself was weird) weren't ruffled - in fact, looked even freshly made.

Dean's head was reeling. Did this mean that his brother had _summoned_ one? Dean wanted to deny it, but he had no idea what state his brother was in. Even if he did, there was no way he could predict Sam's behavior. Even if he had one, there was so much sulfur, there was no way only one showed up.

Dean massaged his temples. Clearly, he knew nothing about his brother. He also needed help. Dean pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts. He couldn't call John for obvious reasons - the biggest one being his father would never agree to help with anything that involved Sam. Even though over eleven years had passed, he still held a lot of residual resentment towards Sam. Hell, a month ago Dean was in the same boat. The only other hunters he could trust enough to work with on any given case were Caleb, Pastor Jim, and Bobby. Of those, he trusted Bobby the most.

Bobby had always had a soft spot for Sam and Dean. He was like a surrogate father to them growing up. They would often spend many hours in the salvage yard playing games or watching Bobby fix up the cars. Dean was the one who mostly watched, and sometimes even helped with the cars. Sam enjoyed looking through Bobby's books. Sometimes he would look at the ones that were about monsters, but he didn't read it to learn how to kill them. He liked the history behind all the different kinds of creatures. Dean didn't really care. All he bothered with was how to gank the filthy things. Their relationship with Bobby ended abruptly when his father got into a drunken fight with the older man and Bobby threatened to shoot him if he ever showed up again. When they left, Bobby made it very clear to the brothers that he would always be there for them if they ever needed anything. Sam never spoke with Bobby after that. Dean on the other hand would frequently lean on Bobby for help with various hunts. He was a good, reliable resource and hunting partner. He knew that if there was anything that he couldn't go to John with, Bobby would help him, no questions asked and, more importantly, without telling his father.

Even though Dean knew all this to be true, he still hesitated about whether to call him. Bobby hadn't spoken to Sam in many years and may have no idea how to help. Not to mention he could be busy with something else. Even if he wasn't, Dean had never called for anything other than hunting. _He won't let you down_ , Dean told himself. He steeled up his courage and pressed the call button.

Bobby answered on the first ring. "Hello?"

"Hey, Bobby. What's happening?" Dean answered casually. He didn't want to bother Bobby if he was busy with another hunt.

He snorted. "You know, same old. Just sitting around the house answering phone calls from almost every hunter in the freakin' world. What about you, kid? Keeping your nose clean?"

Dean chuckled half-heartedly. If was going to ask for help, now was the time. "As best I can, old man." He paused for a moment before blurting, "I need your help."

"That's what I do. Do you still need help with that Wendigo? I know of a couple trustworthy hunters nearby that could back you up," Bobby replied.

"No, I took care of that already. No... it's a bit more... personal," he said.

"Quit beatin' round the bush and tell me what's going on then," Bobby demanded.

Dean cracked a smile and sat down on the bed. "Working on it. Sam called me a few weeks ago." Dean felt himself tense up and listened intensely for Bobby's response.

There was a loud clattering sound and a curse from Bobby. "Sorry, I dropped my cup of coffee. It was empty though." Bobby answered, his voice a bit rougher than before. He cleared his throat. "Sam called you? What did he want?"

Dean could tell Bobby knew something, but put it aside for the moment. "I don't know. He apologized but never said why called me. We met up at his apartment in California. I, uh... I walked out on him." Dean ended softly. He squeezed his eyes shut, preparing for the angry outburst that was sure to come.

Bobby sighed. "I probably should have expected that from an idgit like you... Tell me what happened."

Dean told Bobby everything from how Sam followed him to Nevada and how they hunted the Wendigo together, finishing with the fight at the hospital and Dean's findings in the apartment. Bobby was silent through all of it, asking very few questions and giving Dean plenty of space to let it all off his chest. By the time Dean finished, forty-five minutes had passed, he was out of breath, and it felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Bobby let out a deep huff of air. "Well, I guess I better hit the road." There were rustling noises in the background, indicating Bobby getting his stuff together.

Dean silently thanked the universe. "Thank you so much, Bobby, I'll text you the address." Dean ended the call and immediately sent Bobby the address. He put the phone down and looked around. May as well get settled in and do some more poking around.

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 _A/N: There it is! I hope you guys have been enjoying the longer chapters. I know I have! What do you think of how Dean is treating the Sam situation? Where do you think Sam is? You'll find out soon enough! I can't wait to finish this simply so I can say I did and to hear about your reactions! I love hearing from you guys and reading your lovely reviews. They give me so much motivation to write more and write better. I love you all so much, thank you again for reading my story and reviewing. You have no idea how much this means to me._

 _P.S. - for those of you who want to hear from Sam: his POV for at least the next chapter._


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